


This Is What A Love Song Sounds Like

by fourfreedoms



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate universe - reunion, Anal Sex, Angst, Coming Untouched, Drunk Sex, Facials, Fingering, First Times, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, Size Kink, over-stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: When he came out after his freshman year of college his mother said she’d always known, and he’d had to fight down the bizarre wave of paranoia that maybe everybody knew, maybe they’d all just been letting him sweat all those years. It was crazy of course, there was only one person who’d known, who had any idea.Patrick Kane.Ten years after they fucked around in high school, Patrick and Jonny meet back up at their high school reunion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a sequel to the High School Cheating AU snippets I wrote back in late 2014 and early 2015 that were originally posted to tumblr. You can read [part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3491390/chapters/7670897) and [part 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3491390/chapters/9734196) here. You don't need to read those first to understand this fic, it stands pretty well on its own, but I do encourage you to check them out. 
> 
> Initially I set out just to write a time stamp for that time stamp meme I was doing back in February, but apparently I can never help myself with these things and a full-blown fic sprung out of the ether. 
> 
> Thanks go out to the usual cast of characters: joyfulseeker, cooliofoolios, and frosting50. These guys sometimes drop everything when I whine at them because I don't know whether a scene is working and I'm so grateful to have them around to bounce ideas off of. Thank youuuu. 
> 
> **Warning:** the characters are both 17 when they have sex for the first time, so please don't read if that will at all bother you. 
> 
> Additionally, there is a scene where characters engage in sexual activity while under the influence. It's consensual, but a mutually agreed upon bad decision. 
> 
> One character also cheats on his high school girlfriend for a significant portion of the fic. Again, please don't read if any of this offends you.

**Now…**

It’s weird—weirder than Jonny expected—to be here. He wasn’t going to come originally. He’d skipped their fifth reunion without a second thought. He keeps in touch with all the people he wants to keep in touch with. There was no nostalgia for high school, a time spent desperately ashamed and closeted, hiding behind a million extracurriculars and his grades. When he came out after his freshman year of college his mother said she’d always known, and he’d had to fight down the bizarre wave of paranoia that maybe everybody knew, maybe they’d all just been letting him sweat all those years. It was crazy of course, there was only one person who’d known, who had any idea. 

Patrick Kane. 

His eyes drift over to him, inexorably drawn, and he has to take a long swallow of his beer, throat gone unexpectedly dry. He came, dressed in a sharp suit, hair swept back up off his temples, a little bit of sexy stubble on his jaw, and those laughing bright eyes and pretty red lips that had haunted his teenage fantasies. Time has been good to him. Jonny watches that girlfriend he’d had their senior year glide up to him, resplendent in an off the shoulder dress and heels, still blonde and beautiful. She throws her arms around Patrick’s neck like she hasn’t seen him in forever and the smile he gives her in return, crooked and charming makes something ache inside his chest. 

*

**Then…**

“Fuck, don’t move, let me—” Jonny bit out, palms braced on Patrick’s chest, arms trembling as he slowly forced himself down on Patrick’s dick. It was so thick and hard in his ass, stretching him open, making him suck in deep breaths. It was going better than the last time, but Patrick was just so big. 

Patrick sank his canines into his lower lip, worrying at it, eyes moving under his eyelids like he was dreaming, those always surprising dark lashes soft crescents on his cheeks. Jonny shuddered and pushed himself down another inch. Patrick jerked like a livewire, inadvertently bouncing Jonny on his cock. 

Jonny cursed at him, he’d told him not to move, but also, fuck fuck fuck, Patrick had hit that spot inside, the one he’d only glanced across a few times the last time they’d done this. Jonny sat back a little, changing up the angle, and when he thrust himself back down again, the spongy head of Patrick’s cock dragged right across it. 

“Oh god,” he said, bowing his head. 

Patrick was swallowing in great big gasping breaths, a hand tightening on one of Jonny’s hips, fingers flexing like he wanted to tug Jonny back down onto his cock, but he stayed still, letting Jonny lead. 

Jonny couldn’t help it, he dropped down to kiss him, their tongues tangling as he raised himself up and down on Patrick’s cock, enjoying that bright glancing burst of pleasure that spread across his eyelids every time he did. Patrick moaned into his mouth, sinking his hands into Jonny’s hair like he needed something to hold onto. 

Eventually, the pressure in his ass, the feeling of fullness and the tantalizing shock of Patrick’s cock meeting his prostate, proved too much and Jonny broke the kiss off, propping himself on Patrick’s chest and reaching between them to fist his cock. Patrick’s eyes dropped, following the motion of Jonny’s hand on his cock, working himself quickly. The expression on his face was amazed, the same one he’d had the last time when he’d first pushed inside, and Jonny couldn’t take it. He came before Patrick this time, tightening up around him, crying out as he shuddered out his release. 

Patrick waited a few beats, letting Jonny’s breath settle, and then he gripped his hips tight, and started to fuck up. Jonny winced and dropped his forehead to Patrick’s shoulder. He was too tight after orgasm. It hurt to have Patrick keep forcing his way inside him, but he held himself firm against Patrick’s thrusts, unable to keep from shaking when Patrick’s dick banged up against his over-sensitive prostate. 

“Unh,” he cried out with every thrust inside, muffled into Patrick’s shoulder. It was still hot, Patrick so lost in it, so into _him_ , Jonny didn’t want to give that up to tell him to stop. He could take it. Just a little bit longer. Fuck, if only Patrick weren’t so huge. He could do with a little less dick, probably, if given the choice. He was so sensitive inside, and it mostly felt good when they fucked, but then there was right now. Even if, in the same moment, he had a bizarre sense of pride that he _could_. That Patrick fit inside him like this, that he liked doing him like this. 

“God, Jonny, you’re so fucking tight,” Patrick breathed out, hips working hard, lower body strong from skating. 

Jonny hummed, gritting his teeth, and stood it until Patrick blew, shoving once, twice, slamming up against his prostate for a final time. There were tears at the corners of his eyes and he tried to blink them away before Patrick saw. He hissed when Patrick pulled his cock out, a long agonizing slide outward with the head catching on Jonny’s rim, making him grimace and cry out. 

“Hey, you okay?” Patrick asked, shifting them both onto their sides. 

“I don’t think I can fuck after coming,” Jonny said, eyes clenched tight, hoping Patrick didn’t notice them watering. “Hurts kinda.” 

Patrick went alarmed first and then angry. “Why didn’t you say anything? You just let me—” 

Jonny dropped his hand over Patrick’s mouth, weary, still thrumming from being fucked—something he’d thought he’d be waiting for until he was far away from this hellhole of a town, and here Patrick was giving it to him with a cock that little gay boys dreamed about. “Shut up. I wanted to know. I just wanted to see.” 

Patrick bit at his palm and Jonny yelped, dragging it back, surprised more than hurt. Patrick eyed him for a long moment. “It’s really not like fucking a chick, huh,” he said. 

Jonny shrugged. No. He didn’t think so. How could it be? He’d liked it though. Even afterwards, to have Patrick inside him like that, filling him up—but now they knew, for next time. 

*

**Now…**

He’d like to say he hadn’t thought about Jonathan Toews in years, but that was hard when he could open up the business section of a newspaper any given day and there his name was, jumping off the page. Or that GQ cover that had stared at Patrick from the grocery checkout lane, the look in those dark eyes so familiar and yet so remote. When people bring him up, talking about how unexpectedly hot the CEO of Greenly is, Patrick doesn’t mention that his last name is pronounced Tayvz not Toes, that he went by Jonny, that he’d once lectured Patrick for what felt like five hours on the causes of the French and Indian War, that he’d adored clementine oranges. He certainly doesn’t mention the way his eyes smiled before his mouth did, or the sounds he made when he was coming. Patrick supposes he’d never had any right to those things anyway. Not the way he’d left. Not the way it ended. 

He didn’t expect Jonny to come tonight, big shot tech guy that he is. Jonny hated brown-nosers in high school, and from the look on his face when their classmates started accosting him by the dessert table, that hasn’t changed. He’s aged well, the baby fat melting off his cheekbones, making those big dark eyes stand out even more. Patrick tries not to look at him, but his gaze keeps getting pulled back, and even when he doesn’t he can feel Jonny, a huge presence across the room, dragging at his attention. 

“You seem distracted,” Marianne says, startling him out of his thoughts. She used to say that to him a lot in high school, and he jolts back to the present, ready to apologize, but when he meets her eyes, she’s smiling. “Always thinking.” 

Patrick chuckles in spite of himself. “Just getting my practice in. Gotta do it at least once a day.” 

Marianne hits his shoulder, making a face. “Oh stop, Pat, nobody ever thought you were dumb.” 

Patrick smiles at her. “Of course not.” 

They had though. She had even, calling him stupid every time they had a fight. Everybody except for Jonny, who used to get so frustrated with him for not living up to his potential. He’d get a bad test score back, and they’d argue and yell at each other, and Patrick would shut Jonny up with a kiss that always turned into something more, and afterwards Jonny would say, “You can’t fucking distract me that way!”

People hadn’t known what to say to him when he majored in architecture, except to keep telling him it was hard, did he really want to do that, especially as an athlete recruit who’d only taken core classes up to that point. They’d only really started to believe in him when he’d gotten hired at a decent firm and started making a name for himself. But Jonny had, all along. 

Patrick’s chest hurts, he has to fight not to press his palm flat over his heart. “Can you give me a moment?” he says to Marianne, quickly grasping her hand so she doesn’t think he’s running away from her. 

Her lips part. “Oh yeah, of course.”

Patrick nods. 

* 

**Then…**

“You like this?” he asked Jonny, licking a stripe up over his taint and then swirling his tongue over his hole. 

Jonny jerked against the sheets, his arms wrapped around a pillow like he needed a lifeline. “Yes I fucking like it,” he bit out over his shoulder, red-faced and annoyed, hair all messed up. 

“Alright, alright,” Patrick laughed and smacked his palm flat over one of his generous ass cheeks. He always expected the flesh to jiggle, but it was solid muscle, hard as rock under the skin. Jonny glared at him and Patrick smiled back, before spreading Jonny’s cheeks again, and moving back to tongue him up. 

Jonny groaned when Patrick worked two fingers in, curving them down, seeking out his sweet spot. It didn’t take much, he was always so sensitive here. All Patrick had to do was lightly stroke his fingertips back and forth and he was cursing, all his muscles locking up tight, vibrating like it took everything he had not to rock his dick into the sheets. 

Patrick licked around his fingers, pressing his thumb up just underneath Jonny’s balls until he was mewling, eyes squeezed so tight, practically strangling his pillow. 

“Ah, stop, stop,” he said, face all red and squinched, making Patrick smile. “Gonna come.” 

Patrick backed off. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have minded settling for a handy or a blowjob if Jonny came first. Jonny was good at both, but rimming Jonny, feeling his hole spasm and relax against his lips and tongue, he wanted in there. He wanted in there bad.

“Who knew you’d be so easy for it?” Patrick rumbled as he went for the condom, gut clenching up a little at the foil in his hand. It would be so nice to fuck Jonny bare, to be able to feel the slick silky grip of him, nothing between them. But he’d have to—he’d have to break up with Marianne for that. It’d be crazy to do that, just give up his girlfriend because he was fucking around with Jonny Toews. Jonny Toews who didn’t even seem to like him half the time. He shook his head, clearing it. Things were fine the way they were. 

He fucked in smoothly once he had the condom on, taking Jonny on his knees. Jonny always needed some warming up, but once he was ready to go, he took it smooth as butter. Patrick had been trying, lately, to fuck him into coming. It hadn’t worked so far, but he thought he was close, especially with how Jonny had made him stop fingering him just now. 

“One of these days,” he said to Jonny’s back, hands tight on his hips. 

“One of these days what?” Jonny breathed, flexing back into him, and it made something in his gut twist up, the way he got so eager for it. 

“You’ll come on my cock,” Patrick explained, breathing a little labored. 

He expected Jonny to laugh at him, but instead, he moaned. So he liked that idea. Patrick didn’t bother hiding a grin. 

“I don’t think—” Jonny started, voice regretful. Patrick bent over him, pulling out so that only the very tip of his cock was inside, and Jonny cut himself off. Yeah, that’s right, Patrick thought. If he just did it slow and sweet, only giving him a little bit, he could probably—he could probably manage it. It was tough though, it took so much control. Whenever he fucked Jonny he always had to fight not to blow too early, which Jonny said he didn’t mind, because when he came first, it was all over. But Patrick had his fucking pride. 

The sounds he made now, shaking in Patrick’s arms, like it was so so so much, but so so so good were going to burned into his brain for the rest of his life. Patrick slowly sank in and then withdrew, over and over, a sweet torture on the sensitive head of his cock, but Jonny started to fall apart, he felt it. It was going to work, if he could just hold out. 

“Oh god, oh god,” Jonny said, his fingers flexing in his poor pillow, keeping his hands off his junk, like he wanted to see if maybe Patrick could do it. He was flushed as bright a red down his back as Patrick had ever seen him. Just a little bit more, Patrick thought, just a little bit more. He had to shut his eyes against the sight of it, or lose it altogether. 

“Pat,” Jonny cried, tensing all over. “Fuck, gimme all of it. I—” 

And Patrick had to fight not to swallow his own tongue as he did, rocking in hard on a single thrust, balls slapping up against Jonny’s ass. It felt like heaven after lingering on the tantalizing brink from only barely, barely moving. Jonny made a high keening noise, and then Patrick felt him explode, shivering and jolting the way he always did when he came. 

It was everything—Jonny squeezing so tight around him, his breathy little moans, the way his ass looked clenching down around the base of his cock, all of it inside—Patrick couldn’t help but give it up too. 

God in heaven, he thought afterwards finally detangled from Jonny, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. How was sex like this even possible?

*

**Now…**

Jonny steps outside onto the balcony to get a breath of fresh air, he’s had enough of the overly enthusiastic hellos, the offers to meet people’s cousin’s mother’s gay best friend who he’d totally hit it off with, the shitty startup ideas and the requests for job advice. 

So high school wasn’t any less of a hell than it had been the first time around, what a shock, he thinks with a laugh. 

Somebody clears their throat and Jonny’s eyes dart over, spying Patrick leaning against the balustrade, his back to the night sky. Jonny’s breath freezes in his chest. Patrick looks so relaxed, still radiating that easy confidence. There is no justice in the universe and he’s only gotten sexier as he’s gotten older. So much for hoping that Jonny wouldn’t be affected like this after all these years. 

“Hey,” Jonny says, before the silence stretches out too long. 

Patrick’s lips spread in the beginnings of that beautiful smile. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Didn’t think I’d come, eh?” Jonny says with a soft chuckle, walking over to lean next to him. 

Patrick shrugs, turning around and bracing his forearms on the railing. “How’ve you been?” 

“Oh you know,” Jonny says, waving a blasé hand. He’s been good. Of course he’s been good. He loves his work and he has more money than he knows what to do with. His mom and dad are well taken care of, and he lives in a beautiful home in the hills in Austin, which has a good lgbt scene. He has a good sex life, never lacks for company. He doesn’t compare every boyfriend to the “straight” boy he fucked in high school who just stopped talking to him one day and broke his heart and never fucking looked back. 

“Yeah?” Patrick asks, clearly on the edge of laughing. 

Jonny clears his throat. “What have you been up to?” 

Patrick shrugs. “I’m at an architecture firm in Chicago.” 

“HLM, right?” Jonny asks before he can stop himself. Patrick’s eyes cut over at him. He shrugs and says, “Facebook.” 

“You?” Patrick asks dutifully and Jonny’s glad he’s still got his beer in his hand, because he’s way too sober for this mix of pleasantries. Patrick smiles suddenly, self-deprecating, so sweet it could knock a man off his feet, and says, “Obviously, I know about Greenly. We’ve used your solar shingles in some of our projects.” 

“No complaints, I hope,” Jonny replies.

“No complaints,” Patrick tells him, voice warm and it feels like there’s a double meaning in there somewhere. The moment stretches and Patrick finally drops his eyes, looking out over the rooftops. They’re only four floors up, but it’s taller than most of the other buildings around here. 

“You look good,” Patrick says addressing outer space. Jonny raises a brow and Patrick catches his expression, raising his hands quickly, laughing at himself. “That wasn’t a come-on, I swear.” 

“You look good too,” Jonny says after a beat, even as his fist clenches on his bottle. He clears his throat again. “I should get back inside.” 

“Yeah of course,” Patrick nods. “It was good to see you.” 

And then he’s leaning in for a one-armed hug and Jonny isn’t smart enough to stop him. It’s the chastest most genial form of contact, but it still feels like a body blow, breathing in his cologne, Patrick pressed up against him, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“You too,” Jonny says, hoping his voice doesn’t reflect any of the emotions tangled inside him. And then he’s fleeing inside. 

*

**Then…**

Jonny wasn’t trying to push anything, but he couldn’t help just seeing, dipping his fingers down between Patrick’s cheeks when he was blowing him, trailing his fingers back over his hole when he was playing with his balls. He was pretty sure if he came right out and asked if that was something Patrick would be into he’d get a no. This way, Patrick didn’t tell him to stop, sometimes he even pushed back into the brief contact. It made Jonny think, eventually some day, Patrick might want to try it. 

Jonny wasn’t expecting it at all when he went home with Patrick after Julia Stone’s graduation party, drunk and high and unable to stop giggling, that he’d ask for it then. Later, he’d wish he’d been sober, or at least in his right mind enough to say no. But he was drunk and stupid, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Hindsight was 20/20. 

It was late, and they had to be quiet because Patrick’s parents were home, but he squirmed and laughed all through Jonny fingering him open, but he opened up surprisingly easy, maybe just relaxed from the pot, or maybe just because Jonny had learned from his own first experience. He groaned into Jonny’s mouth as Jonny sank two fingers inside of him, fucking him with tongue and his hand at the same time. Patrick was so easy and pliable like this, throatily moaning, tearing his mouth away and whispering for Jonny to hurry up. 

Jonny swallowed a laugh against the thin skin of Patrick’s throat. “Okay, okay,” he said, arranging himself between Patrick’s thighs. 

They forgot the condom—their first mistake—and when Jonny realized, he was already sinking inside. Jonny cursed and tried to pull out, but Patrick curled his thighs around Jonny’s hips and used them to tug him inside. 

“S’ok, s’ok,” he mumbled, gripping Jonny tight. It was intense, the hot clutch of Patrick’s body overriding all remaining sense. He really should have pulled out, but he didn’t, tucking his face into Patrick’s throat instead, muffling any embarrassing noises that threatened to come out. 

The headboard on the bed was loose and Patrick reached up, holding it against the wall with his palm as Jonny started to speed up, muffling the tell-tale thump thump Jonny knew well. He’d been fucked on this bed not even a week ago when Patrick’s parents were at some dinner party and his sisters were all out at sleepovers or playdates. They were riding a perilous edge here, with Patrick’s parents fast asleep just down the hall, struggling to keep quiet. Still Patrick urged Jonny to fuck him harder, the easy strength of his upper body keeping the headboard stable. 

“Who knew you’d like it like this,” Jonny whispered, earnestly surprised, as he scraped his teeth down Patrick’s sweat-sheened throat. 

“Fuck off, Toews,” Patrick hissed back, his other arm joined the first, using it as leverage to push back against Jonny. “I just—fuck—want it...” 

Jonny braced his palm on the mattress, curling his spine over Patrick and getting his back into it, hungrily watching as Patrick’s plush mouth tipped open, arching into it each time Jonny fucked inside. It was rougher by a good mile than he wanted for himself, but Patrick seemed to revel in it, breathing out in harsh sobs that Jonny had to stifle with his mouth, kissing Patrick soft and deep, cupping his jaw with his other hand. 

Jonny was getting close, sweet inevitable pressure building in his balls. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. “You need my help to get there?” he breathed, trying not too damn eager to come. 

Patrick bit into his lip and shook his head, reaching between them to start jerking his cock, forearm working hard like he was nearly there himself. 

“Yeah, baby,” Jonny told him. “Do it.” 

Patrick choked, his other arm slipping on the headboard, and it met the wall with a slam. Shit. They should stop this or they were going to get discovered. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care,” Patrick groaned out, sounding just as frantic as Jonny felt. And that was just too much. Jonny didn’t know how he was expected to live through that. He came with his hands clenched tight on Patrick’s hips, hauling him back down onto his cock. 

Patrick’s stomach dipped on a deep inhale and then he went tense all over, pressing his feet flat to the bed and flexing up into Jonny. He shot between them, messing them both up. Waiting to get his breath back, Jonny couldn’t help trailing his fingers through it, rubbing it into the ridges of Patrick’s abdomen, his smooth pale skin. When he looked up Patrick was staring at him behind half-lidded eyes. 

“Not bad, Toews,” he panted. 

Jonny laughed, overwhelmed suddenly with fondness for him. He nudged their lips together. Patrick chuckled and then he was wrapping his arms around Jonny’s shoulders and kissing back. For one dangerous minute Jonny forgot that they were nothing but a series of illicit quickies and furtive hookups. 

*

**Now…**

Patrick knows he deserved Jonny peacing out on him like that. They’re not friends. They never really were. They’d fought more than they’d fucked even. Although Patrick would’ve been the first to admit he’d enjoyed those ridiculous sparring matches they got into. But they hadn’t ever been buddies. 

He unclenches his fists from around the balcony railing, wondering why the hell he came here tonight. Not to see Marianne and the friends he never bothered to keep in touch with, that’s for sure. He takes a deep breath and heads back inside. He’ll have another drink and then he’ll head out. 

The bartender has just handed over his beer when a familiar laugh breaks out. He looks over towards the front of the room and Jonny’s with a guy Patrick thinks was on the football team, head thrown back and eyes sparkling as he claps him on the back. He’d forgotten the way Jonny laughed with his whole body. It’s the most genuine he’s looked all night. 

Patrick can’t help smiling himself at Jonny’s exuberant display of mirth. He’s glad Jonny’s doing well. Really. He deserves that. 

*

**Then…**

Patrick’s grade in history was decent. Graduation was only a month away, and his hockey scholarship looked pretty solid. There was really no need to keep hanging out with Jonny. And it wasn’t like Jonny cared—they weren’t friends. He was fully aware Jonny had really just been curious about what it would be like to finally sleep with a guy. And Patrick had been chill to do that. An orgasm was an orgasm. But then it got weird and they’d—

He’d let Jonny—

Obviously it couldn’t keep going after that. Jonny had texted a few times to set up tutoring sessions, but when Patrick had ignored them, he hadn’t pursued it. 

Patrick wasn’t freezing him out, he just didn’t want Jonny to get the wrong idea. Not that it really seemed to matter. Jonny didn’t even seem ruffled about it, eyes going right through Patrick when they passed in the hall just like in the old days. 

He also needed to break up with Marianne. There was no point in continuing this relationship when he was about to go off to Boston and all the hot girls at BC and she was staying behind. He decided to wait until after prom for that, because he wasn’t a dick, and he knew it would embarrass her to be left without a date. 

It was still a fun night, cool venue on the water and then a crazy afterparty at Dave Malloy’s amazing house up in the hills. The corsages and stupid cumberbunds they’d all been forced into had long been discarded. 

Jonny went with a girl on the student council, and he caught them at the afterparty, hanging out on one of the sofas, just talking, completely ignoring the party while people played pong and did shots all around them. He wondered if she noticed that Jonny was carefully limiting all the places they were touching. Patrick shook his head. 

“It would figure that Toews would have deep conversations on the fucking couch when he’s got a hot piece like Illeana on the line,” his friend Dylan said, noticing Patrick’s line of sight and shaking his head. “What a poseur.” 

Patrick snorted and took a deep swallow from his solo cup, draining it of the watery Keystone in a single go. “Yeah, man,” he said half-heartedly, tossing his empty cup aside and turning towards the kitchen to get another one before the keg disappeared. 

Marianne found him before he got there. “Hey there,” she said, twining her arms around his neck. 

“Oh hi,” he said, smiling down at her. His hands settled around her waist. She was so tiny. He never stopped marveling at it. 

“I’ve kinda got something special planned,” she said, keeping it coy. 

“Oh really?” he replied, drawing out the syllable. He was pretty sure he knew what she had up her sleeve, because she’d been hinting at getting something “different” from Victoria’s Secret for nearly a month. 

A toilet flushed and the bathroom door opened up behind her, hooking Patrick’s attention. Jonny came out, buttoning up his fly. Their eyes caught over her shoulder. For a moment, Patrick wanted to say something, anything, to make Jonny laugh or smile. Pure craziness. What was wrong with him. 

“I snagged one of the rooms for us if you want to find out?” she said oblivious, interrupting his train-of-thought. 

Jonny stared back at him, hand still frozen on the knob of the door. Patrick dropped his eyes. 

“Lead the way,” Patrick said. He didn’t meet Jonny’s eyes when they had to pass him on their way to the stairs. 

*

**Now…**

Of course he runs into Patrick when he goes to get his coat. Patrick’s already there handing over his ticket stub. 

“Heading out?” he asks needlessly, because he’s shit at this and doesn’t know what else to say. 

Patrick nods. “Promised my mother an early breakfast tomorrow before I head out. You?” 

“Eh, well, you know,” Jonny says as he hands over his own stub. And because something about Patrick always makes him too honest, he finds himself saying, “It was awkward as shit in there.” 

Patrick looks startled into a laugh. “Not because of me, I hope?” 

Jonny’s cheeks heat in a blush. “No, you know, the whole thing.” He shakes his head absently. “I don’t really know why I came.” 

Patrick clears his throat. “Walk with me?” 

Jonny stares at him, unsure where this is going, but after a moment he nods. Patrick doesn’t say anything as they wait for the attendant to hand Jonny his coat or when they head down the hall. He opens the door silently for Jonny as Jonny shrugs it on, and then finally as they make their way out into the November cold when Jonny’s starting to wonder if Patrick really intends to say anything at all, he opens his mouth. 

“I owe you an apology,” Patrick says. 

Jonny cuts his eyes over to him, surprised. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Patrick says with a heavy sigh. “I was a shithead in high school, I really was. What I did to you was—” he breaks off and shakes his head like he can’t find the words. 

“You were 17, Patrick,” Jonny says. They’ve stopped walking, frozen in the parking lot. 

“So were you,” Patrick replies. 

Jonny shrugs. “This is hard. I knew that even then.” 

Patrick mouth quirks in a self-deprecating smile. God that smile. It makes the ache that’s accompanied Jonny all night long deepen.

Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets and Jonny is aware of him everywhere, the breadth of his chest and shoulders in his well-cut coat, the flush the wind is bringing to his cheeks, and those piercing blue eyes holding his gaze. Jonny’s stupidly weak for it. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. 

Patrick continues, “It took me a long time to get my head on right.” 

“Have you?” Jonny replies, trying desperately not to betray his inner turmoil and the fact that it’s been ten years, but apparently none of his stupid teenage feelings have gone away. 

“Oh, christ,” Patrick says and then he’s reaching up to kiss Jonny, the barest seductive brush of his mouth, surprising them both. He pulls away after only a moment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have. It’s just, you were looking at me, and I—” 

Jonny hauls him in for another kiss before he can finish the sentence and they fall into it so easily, like making out under the bleachers again. Their mouths slot together, the wet hint of tongue, just a tease, before Patrick takes his mouth like territory he needs to reconquer. It’s perfect, like something Jonny didn’t even know he was looking for. 

“You taste the same,” Patrick says softly, thumb skating over Jonny’s cheekbone, when they finally separate for air. 

“Good I hope,” Jonny replies, laughing a little desperately.

“Fuck,” Patrick says, voice deepening, “it was always good.” 

The words pierce through Jonny and he finds himself saying, “Come back to my hotel with me.” 

*

**Now…**

They’re not drunk and they’re not teenagers, but there’s a rushed frantic quality to it nevertheless, making out in the elevator, unable to stop touching as soon as their through the door to the hotel room. Jonny knows how to be an adult about this, and there’s no need to speed through it, but he’s almost shaking with how badly he’s wanted this and for so long. 

When they’re down to their underwear, Jonny fishes his wallet out of his discarded trousers, and then realizes something. 

“The condom I have is not going to fit you,” he says slowly. 

Patrick quirks a brow, a familiar cockiness quirking up his lips. “I got it,” he says, reaching for his own pants. He pauses. “Uh, but I don’t have lube?”

“Baby, do you think this is amateur night?” Jonny laughs. “Try my dopp kit.” 

Patrick gets up and goes to rummage around on the little back case resting on the bureau. “All natural,” he says when he finds it, looking back over at Jonny. “On brand.” 

Well duh. He runs a solar startup. 

Jonny, propped on his elbows on top of the sheets, shrugs. Patrick’s eyes heat as he takes him in and Jonny holds in a cocky smile of his own. He knows what he looks like. He puts in the work to keep it that way. He’s not shocked to see that Patrick is still cut perfection either. 

“Do you still play?” Jonny asks. It’s weird to be having this moment, like it’s just any other hookup and there isn’t a decade of history between them. 

Patrick seems equally aware of it as he climbs up onto the bed, but he answers anyway, knee-walking between Jonny’s legs to tell him, “I’m in like, three rec leagues actually. Only one of them is any good, but we have fun.” 

Jonny doesn’t ask why Patrick didn’t go pro. The surgical scars on his wrist and collarbone are writ large and nobody who’d paid attention to college hockey from 2007-2010 could’ve missed Patrick Kane’s promising career going down the toilet. Now the old pang of sadness comes back—he used to hate himself for caring, but couldn’t quite convince himself to stop. He’d never had a dream to lose, but Patrick had. 

“Gonna take those off?” Patrick asks jolting him back to the present. His eyes dip to where Jonny has started to thicken up behind the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs in anticipation. 

Jonny lifts his hips and pushes them off, enjoying the way Patrick’s eyes follow the movement. He gets up onto his knees and winds an arm about Patrick’s hips, pressing another kiss to his mouth before saying, “Now you.” 

Jonny’s not sure what he expected, but it’s certainly not for Patrick to remember exactly how he liked to be fingered open—with a thorough application of his mouth to Jonny’s cock and gently crooked fingers that stroke over and over his prostate, winding him up. It’s not long before Jonny’s gasping and telling him to get on with it. 

Patrick gives him a sinful grin and then fetches the condom, tearing it open with his teeth in a move that should not be hot, but like most things about Patrick, Jonny has simply accepted that it is. The groan he makes when Jonny spreads his thighs, tipping his hips up so that his shaved-bare hole is visible is deeply gratifying. 

“You would,” Patrick says as he leans in, bumping his cock against Jonny’s hole. 

Jonny doesn’t bother with a reply, just breathes in deep, hitching his hips up as Patrick starts to push inside. The length and girth of him, Jonny hadn’t forgotten about it, but it’s a lot. “Still the biggest man I’ve been with.” 

Patrick groans, dropping his forehead to Jonny’s shoulder. “Hitting me where I live, Toews.” 

“Yeah? Show me,” Jonny replies. 

Patrick pushes one of Jonny’s thighs up towards his chest, giving himself more room to work and smoothly fucks in deep. He gets Jonny’s prostate on the first go and he grins as he does it, because he knows even before Jonny arches his neck back, digging his head into his pillow, exactly how good he is at this. God, Jonny forgot what that was like. After that disastrous first time, Patrick had figured him out quick and then spent every time after that trying to short out his brain. All he can do now is clutch Patrick’s broad back and hang on. 

“God, Jonny,” Patrick breathes. “You’re so—fuck, touch yourself, c’mon, get yourself off on my cock.” 

Jonny’s lids flutter, the room strobing before him as he gets his hand on his cock, starting to pull himself off in time with Patrick’s strokes inside. He’s nearly thirty, prides himself on his stamina, but he’s nearing the edge and fast like a fucking adolescent. 

“I’m not gonna—if you want to keep—” he stutters out. 

“I remember,” Patrick says against his ear, pressing a soft kiss just under it that threatens to undo Jonny completely. “I don’t need to come first. Do it, baby, c’mon.” 

And that’s all it takes—his brutally efficient thrusts against his prostate and his low voice in Jonny’s ear. Jonny groans out his orgasm, jerking himself through it as Patrick’s slows and then stops, waiting him out. It feels like the world has turned upside down, he can’t remember the last time he got done that good. 

Patrick’s patient for a long moment, but he’s practically vibrating by the time he draws back, gentleness turning to urgency as he sits up on his knees and swiftly strips off the condom. Suddenly careless, he tosses it aside to fist his cock in a tight grip, and Jonny lies there, watching him jerk off, so fucking gorgeous in the low hotel light. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Patrick says, sounding strained. “Can I come on you?” 

Jonny nods and sits up offering up his face, and Patrick’s eyes flare, lips parting like he’s shocked at what Jonny’s offering. Jonny traces his tongue over his lip and Patrick shakes like he’s been electrocuted, and the first pulses of his come hit Jonny’s cheeks and chin. Jonny leans in close, tongue darting out to catch the next few jets, before he closes his lips around the head of Patrick’s cock, giving him one long suck that has Patrick cursing. 

Jonny lets him pop free of his mouth when he’s lapped up the last of it, and Patrick drops back to sit on his heels with a satiated sigh, holding his gaze. And that same feeling from the parking lot is back. It’s like they’ve traveled back through time, to the first time they ever did this to the very last. No one has ever fucked him like Patrick does. No one has ever seemed to fit him like Patrick does. 

*

**Now…**

Jonny blinks at him, blissed out and seemingly bewildered, Patrick’s come still smeared across his face. They stare at each other, the fizz of the ventilation system filling in the silence. Jonny looks a mess, but Patrick can’t recall ever meeting a more beautiful man. 

“Fuck, I should shower,” Jonny says finally. He totters off of the bed on unsteady legs and Patrick follows, trying to give him space, but also unwilling to completely leave him alone. Jonny fiddles with the knobs of the shower for a moment with a shaking hand, and then gives up, flicking the taps on to fill the bath. 

“Can’t do it,” he says, dropping himself into the palatial tub. Patrick fucked him practically boneless. He can’t help but feel pride at that. So much of what Patrick had looked for in partners for years after high school had been written in Jonny’s bed and he hadn’t forgotten any of it. 

Jonny moans, closing his eyes and leaning back as the water level quickly rises. One eye blinks open and he says, “Are you getting in?” 

“I—yes,” Patrick says, dipping his fingers in the water quickly. 

It’s hotter than he usually likes, but Jonny catches the look on his face and flips on the cold tap quickly. After a moment of waiting for the water to cool, he climbs in in front of Jonny and lets Jonny settle him against his chest. Jonny trails his fingertips over his skin, tracing designs that make Patrick shiver. This is different, Patrick thinks. In high school everything between them had to be so carefully choreographed so that Patrick could ignore the way Jonny was bigger than him, stronger maybe even. Anything that threatened his delicate confidence in his sexuality. It had been so futile and stupid and it had eventually cost Patrick the thing that really mattered most. 

The tub starts to get dangerously full, and Jonny reaches around him to turn off the water, before easing back against the side. In the silence, Patrick finds himself listening to the steady thump of his heart against his back, stroking his thumb over Jonny’s knee. Whatever happens next, at least he has this moment. They doze in the tub for a while until the water is too cold to stay inside and their fingertips have gone pruney. 

“So uh, what now?” he asks as he towels himself down in Jonny’s room, bracing himself for the answer. He knows what he would like to happen, but he has no idea if Jonny’s anywhere near the same page. There are so many things he wants to say, but he forces himself to hold his breath and wait. 

“Did I tell you we’re opening up a Chicago office?” Jonny says, as he pulls on a pair of underwear and scrubs a hand through his damp hair. 

“Oh?” Patrick asks, trying to keep his cool. 

“I’ll probably be there quite a bit, at least while we get it up off the ground.” Jonny says. “Flights from Austin to Chicago are under three hours, which is part of why we chose the site. Here, gimme your cell.” 

Patrick liberates his phone from his jacket and hands it over. “Maybe we can hook up again. This is my number—” he says, typing in the first few digits, before stopping when his contact card comes up. He looks up, eyes wide. “You kept it.” 

Patrick holds his gaze, even as he flushes. “Yes.” 

“All these years and I thought it was just me—”

“It wasn’t just you,” Patrick replies quietly. 

He’s already naked, but the expression on Jonny’s face strips him down to the bone. He looks like Patrick threw him a curve when he was calling for the fast ball. God Patrick fucked up, teenager or no. He finds his own underwear and tugs it up. He needs some kind of defense for whatever’s coming next. 

Jonny sits down at the foot of the bed, big eyes wide. His skin glows in the low light. It smells like sex and them in here—the smell is familiar, even tinged with the faint scent of hotel toiletries. Patrick couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“What would _you_ like to do?” Jonny asks, breaking the silence. 

“I’d like to date you,” Patrick tells him. “It’s cool if you’re not interested, but that’s where I’m at.”

He stops himself from launching into a sermon on how grateful he was for this chance and how much Jonny has always meant to him, because frankly, he’d like to keep at least some of his dignity if Jonny’s about to give him the boot. 

Jonny visibly swallows, but then he says the best four words that Patrick’s ever heard…

“Of course I’m interested.” 

*

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4601-Ridge-Oak-Dr-Austin-TX-78731/29343143_zpid/) is the house I imagined for Jonny in Austin.
> 
> Whew, now back to programming as regularly scheduled.


End file.
